


to be mesmerized or petrified

by louser



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Bee Vampire Dib, Blood and Injury, Dubiously Consensual Vampire Bites, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Bites, adult Zim, adult dib, because that’s certainly a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louser/pseuds/louser
Summary: An uncommonly grave injury leads Dib to a discovery about Zim’s blood.Happy (two days past) Halloween?
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	to be mesmerized or petrified

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Honeyblood by Empires
> 
> Somebody please teach me how to rate things because I don’t think this would be Teen but it doesn’t seem like enough for Mature so aaaahhhhh

“I- are you _ bleeding?”  _

Zim snarled like a wild animal as he leaned against the back wall of his living room. A trail of translucent gold was left in his wake as he slid to the floor. “Get a good look while you can, Dib-beast. It isn’t often that a member of such a— a—“ he seemed to fumble with the words for a moment, which was a testament to just how exhausted he must have been. A deeply confused expression settled over his face, magenta eyes scrunched in deep, frustrated concentration. There was a visible sheen of sweat on his olive green skin. “—an  _ unevolved  _ species has the honor of making an irken bleed.” 

The contraption in Dib’s hands suddenly felt ten times heavier. He hadn’t expected it to work. Yeah, the whole _ point  _ had been to harm Zim (what kind of world protector would he be if it wasn’t?), but there was an expectation in almost every encounter they had in recent years that they would stick to the usual rhythm. Insults were swapped. Battle was had. Zim’s plan would be stopped or it wouldn’t, but the fate of the planet was almost never at stake anymore. Injuries were commonplace, but they always remained just short of fatal. The worst Dib got was a broken bone. Hell, Zim didn’t even really bleed. Bruise, yes, but generally nothing worse than that. 

All Dib wanted was to shake things up a little bit. As much as he relied on fighting Zim for a sense of normalcy at this point (as much as he relied on fighting Zim for any sense of companionship at all, really), that exact same rhythm made their rivalry grow kind of… stale. There was no _ heart  _ in it anymore. At the end of the day, he knew their battles didn’t mean anything anymore. He’d known it since the aftermath of the Florpus incident. He knew the Tallest wanted nothing to do with Earth, even if they did ever emerge from that terrifying space anomaly, and he knew that Zim would only keep up the charade of taking over the planet at this point because he lacked the ability to do anything else. They locked themselves in an eternal stalemate because neither knew what else to do. 

And it was boring. 

Their whole deal worked because it was what Dib loved! He gave up on Real Science™ because he _ enjoyed  _ thwarting Zim, feeling important, experiencing the rush of battle with the paranormal. The sheer predictability of their dance was really bringing him down. What they needed was to try something new. 

A group of aliens that Dib had allied himself with briefly— the Resisty, or something to that effect— shared some plans for anti-irken weaponry several months prior, but Dib hadn’t planned on actually using it. When Zim’s plans revolved more around inconveniencing his nemesis or causing low-level mayhem in the city, there didn’t seem to be much of a point. Escalating that much seemed like a breach of etiquette. Thus, the schematics collected dust in a desk drawer until the itch for change grew too extreme to ignore. 

Now Zim was… really, actually hurt. He was really hurt, and Dib didn’t even have the mental capacity to dwell on the strange mix of emotions that made him feel, because there was an irresistible scent wafting from the alien that addled his brain. 

Dib pinched his nose shut with the hand that wasn’t holding his blaster, but the damage was already done. He could feel his fangs pressing down into his bottom lip. “Are you bleeding honey?!” 

“Why would I bleed your disgusting Earth food?!” Zim hissed back through gritted teeth. “If anything, your honey is like my blood!” 

“Okay, I’m not— I’m not actually that interested in semantics right now,” Dib replied through his own clenched jaw. He was used to the symptoms of his specific brand of vampirism by now: the fangs, the heightened senses, the constant honey cravings. His affliction went back more than a decade at this point, but never had the pull toward eating been quite this strong. Of course, the last time he’d been around this much honey was that time he’d accidentally knocked down a beehive during a cryptid hunt, but even that had been nothing compared to this. 

Unthinkingly, Dib stepped closer. Honey smelled so much better after getting bitten by that vampire bee, enough to where his mouth would water if a bottle of it was opened across the room, but this was a physical tug in his gut. The yellow oozing out of Zim’s wounds was almost identical— sweet, cloying, mesmerizing— but somehow more intense, maybe a bit more metallic. It made the edges of Dib’s mind go fuzzy in a way that only happened when he hadn’t had honey in days. 

“Euhhhhh… Dib?” Zim stared up at him with wide, berry-colored eyes, and the acknowledgment of this thought made Dib wonder what he tasted like. Raspberry honey sounded _ great.  _ “Dib-monster? Zim has decided to have— have mercy on your weak, pitiful self and— and… urgh.” Zim winced, one gloved hand reaching up to grasp at the still-bleeding wound in his side. “Just stop acting weird and… and flee my base before I change my mind!” 

A separate feeling, distinct from the buzzing hunger in his brain and stomach, caused Dib to take another step closer, and then another, and another, until he was close enough to fall to his knees at Zim’s side. The blaster was tossed to the side, forgotten, as he carefully (tenderly, one might think, were it not _ Dib  _ and _ Zim)  _ pried Zim’s hand away from his injury. 

There was a lot of blood. It coated Zim’s glove like thin, sticky paint, and it continued to flow from his wound. 

“Shit,” Dib breathed. “That looks bad.” 

“You look bad,” Zim griped back, but it lacked the usual confidence. He sounded far away, like he was struggling to find the energy to argue. 

“How do I— do you have somewhere I can take you? You have a medbay, right? Or can your PAK fix this? I’ve seen you heal fast before, but this seems—“ 

“Shut your fool mouth, human. I will be fine. All that I require is… a few moments’ peace.” 

At any other time, Dib might be inclined to believe him. Irken physiology remained almost completely unknown to him despite the longstanding dreams he held of one day tearing into his enemy with a scalpel, unearthing the secrets that lay beneath his alien skin. There were so many things that Dib didn’t know about how Zim’s body worked. But this still felt different. Zim was never this out of it. 

“I can help,” he said without thinking, raising his eyes to meet Zim’s. “If you’re cool with it.” 

“‘Cool’ with _ what?”  _

A strange noise of surprise, somewhere between a whine and a click, erupted from Zim’s throat as Dib reached up to tilt his patient’s head to the side. Zim’s skin was almost rubbery to the touch, both on the chin (which Dib cradled in his right hand) and on his exposed neck (which Dib caressed with the right. Just. For testing purposes). “I know my healing got a lot faster after _ I  _ got stung, so if I bite you… mixed with your PAK’s healing factor, it should go smoother probably? 

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Zim managed to pull a face so extreme Dib wondered how it didn’t hurt. “No part of that sentence was pleasant.” 

“The options are let me bite you or bleed out, so I don’t think you get to be picky.” 

“I’m not bleeding out!” Zim snapped before promptly coughing up a spatter of yellow. “That— that proves nothing.” 

“Oh come on! I’m trying to be _ nice  _ for once!” 

“And what do you want in return?” The way that Zim glared up at him made Dib’s grip tighten for more reasons than one. The one he chose to focus on was righteous indignation. He was trying to be helpful, after all, and here Zim was questioning it. “Don’t look so surprised. Clearly you would never make the… brilliant… decision to… help… without…” 

Each word grew progressively quieter, weaker. To Dib’s horror, Zim’s breathing was growing fainter by the second as well, and his eyes screwed shut in an expression of frustration and pain that was unthinkable on Zim. They did not open again.

Okay. Okayokayokay. This was fine. This was just fine. 

But if Dib was going to do this, he had to do it _ now.  _

Taking a deep breath, Dib leaned forward and pulled down the high collar of Zim’s uniform. From this close, practically on top of the dying alien, the scent of coppery honey was almost maddening. It had never been a problem before, but Dib was struck with the sudden worry that he might not be able to pull away once he took a bite. That was a common problem amongst the vampiric, wasn’t it? Given that Dib’s victims were generally plastic bottles and the destroyed homes of honeybees, he hadn’t given it much thought, but with the prone form of Zim beneath him, completely defenseless and smelling nothing short of delectable… 

Dib glanced up at the ceiling, searching for an answer in the exposed wires and tubes. “Uh, Zim’s house computer thing?” 

[THAT’S NOT A POLITE GREETING], responded a deep, familiar voice from everywhere at once. 

“No time for that. I’m about to try and do something, and if I go overboard, I need you to stop me. Pull me off or something. Zim’s life is at stake.” 

The computer was quiet for a moment. 

[UNDERSTOOD] 

The ease with which the computer answered was enough to shock Dib briefly into inaction. Most of his impression of the thing was that it barely even took orders from Zim, so to have it agree so quickly could only mean that the situation really was growing dire. 

No more time to waste. 

Dib turned back to the strip of skin that had just been exposed and dipped his head down to rest his lips just atop it. He allowed himself only a moment to be struck by the intimacy of their position before biting down into resistant flesh. 

Blood bloomed into Dib’s mouth, and the sensation was absolutely transcendent. There was something about the heat of Zim’s skin in his mouth mixed with the intoxicating scent of his blood that made it taste all the sweeter, all the more satisfying. It felt like eating a three course meal after surviving off of nothing but cake. 

He knew he was getting a little carried away (he could hear himself moaning in ecstasy, and _ god  _ was that embarrassing), but surely a couple more seconds wouldn’t hurt? He’d given Zim a good bite, but could he be sure that it was enough to transfer the needed effects? Maybe he should keep going for a minute, just to make sure. Just to be safe. That was why he came up only long enough to take a readying breath and chomp back down on Zim’s neck with more force than was probably necessary. The gush of blood that followed was just as good as the first, and Dib found himself sucking and lapping at the puncture wounds he’d created in a frenzy of literal bloodlust. His hands floated down to rest upon Zim’s hips, fingernails digging deep into the cloth of his uniform. 

He almost forgot what his original intentions were, clinging to Zim’s unconscious body even as something cold and thick wrapped itself around his midsection and unsuccessfully attempted to tear him away. Readjusting so that his arms were now wrapped around Zim as tightly as possible, Dib clamped his mouth back into place and continued with his feast until a sudden, arresting shock tore through his body and knocked him away. 

“Ow!” Dib rose from the floor and shook out his still-tingling fingers. “Hey, that hurt!” 

[YOU WENT OVERBOARD], the computer replied with a tinge of annoyance. 

A glance at Zim proved that the computer wasn’t wrong. His collar was still folded down, meaning that Dib could clearly see the mess of bite marks littering his skin, most still oozing slowly. Dib felt terrible about it until he didn’t; a different, more familiar kind of hunger began to gnaw away at him at the sight. 

Since he needed a distraction from _ all of that,  _ he gingerly carried Zim from his resting place against the wall and placed him on the living room couch instead. Zim’s breathing was beginning to deepen already, and his previous wounds had stopped bleeding, but Dib didn’t want to take any chances by leaving him on a cold, hard surface. 

An hour had passed by the time that Zim woke from his uneasy slumber, completely healed and muttering curses from the moment he regained consciousness. His antennae wiggled about independently of each other, as if he were testing them out. “Am I dead?” 

“What? No.” Dib had been seated on the floor with his back to the couch, but now he twisted around so that he could lean into Zim’s field of vision. Unsurprisingly, Zim’s eyes were still half-closed, and his mouth was twisted into the sort of grimace Dib wore when recovering from an especially bad hangover. “You’re fine. I helped you.” 

“Gah!” Zim’s eyes snapped open, and he scrambled backwards. Since Dib was at his side and the only place he had to go was further into the armrest, his escape was unsuccessful. “What are you still doing here?!” 

Well, ow. “I was making sure the bite worked. You know, you could work on being a little more grateful about this sort of thing.” 

“Grateful?! You put Zim in such a state and expect me to be _ grateful?!”  _

“Um, yeah?” Dib tried not to let out an angry huff (and failed miserably). “I could have let you die just now, but I didn’t? In fact, I even gave you new superpowers on top of your weird alien ones, so a thank you would be nice.” 

“What do you mean, you filthy—!” Zim snarled, but his expression suddenly changed to one of undisguised horror. “Wait. You did what now?” 

That wasn’t the reaction Dib had been expecting. So maybe it was a little naive of him to assume there would be gratitude for the whole affair, but there was nothing to be so freaked out about. It was an emergency, and Dib had a way to help, and all it took was a little bit of biting. If he hadn’t, Zim could very well be lying dead at his feet right now. “I saved your life!” 

“You infected me with your disgusting human bee disease!” 

“To— again— save your life!” 

“So that you could watch me suffer!” 

“So that I wouldn’t have to watch you die, stupid!” 

Zim blinked, antennae standing straight up. “Eh?” 

What was that reaction? Was it really such a surprise? At this point, they had spent so long together that it would feel unnatural not to have the other around. Life would be dull without Zim around to fight, even more so than having the same fights every week. What did Dib have to look forward to if not battling Zim? And what did Zim have to focus on if not battling Dib? He liked to think that if their situations were reversed, Zim would have done the same. 

Dib shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want you to die, that’s all. Don’t read too much into it.” 

Zim still didn’t look convinced by this apparent act of charity, hands clenched into fists on the couch. “I know you want something out of this. You wouldn’t help me without the expectation of something in return, and I do not _ believe  _ that your chosen reward was simply keeping me alive.” 

“Fine, then.” If he wanted to be that way, then there _ was  _ something that Dib wanted. “I want to bite you again.” 

He was swiftly thrown out of the house by one of the house’s hanging wires and shot by a lawn gnome, but Dib decided to take it as a ‘maybe.’ 


End file.
